


Martin v Martin

by klatukatt



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Crossover, same name as a prompt, slip sideways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 05:04:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18804274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klatukatt/pseuds/klatukatt
Summary: A strange American has showed up at The Magnus Institute and will only talk to Martin.





	Martin v Martin

_*Whir of a tape recorder*_

“Get out.” The woman’s voice was filled with rage.

A calm American voice replied. “The nice woman up front said—“

“I don’t care what she said or who you talked to. You need to leave, now.” It was Melanie’s voice, but filled with more rage than her usual spite.

“I don’t mean any harm. At the moment.”

“But I can tell you will.”

“Well aren’t you perceptive.”

_*Sounds of footsteps down a long hall.*_

“So sorry I’m late. There was someone who wanted to give a statement?” The cheerful voice filled the room.

“Martin!” came another voice. “Could you step outside with me for a moment?”

“Of course, but Basira, you know it’s not my turn—”

_*The door shuts heavily, but the room is not quiet. Heavy, slow breathing can be heard. There is a creak of a person relaxing in their chair.*_

“Like I said, I’m just here to make a statement.”

“You’re lying. You came in asking for Martin and you’re going to hurt him.”

“Want to? Maybe. Going to? Probably not. You know that though, don’t you?”

_*The door opens.*_

“Okay. Okay,” says Martin. A chair slides out. “I’ll be happy to take your statement.”

_*The American coughs.*_

“Oh, um, Melanie, could you please, um—“

“Martin, no. You weren’t here when he showed up with his whole gang. They were practically drooling. I’m not leaving you alone in a room with him.”

“It’s— fine. I’ll be fine. And you’ll be just outside the door, right?”

“Right. Just outside.”

_*As the door creaks shut the American has one more response—*_

“Later, slayer.”

_*—before the door closes and they are alone.*_

“Okay, statement of…. Um?”

“Martin.”

“What? Yes?”

“Martin. That’s my name.”

“Oh! That’s a coincidence, because that’s my name too.”

“No such thing as a coincidence.”

“So when you came in asking for Martin you weren’t asking FOR Martin, you—”

“Yep.”

“Sorry?”

“I was asking for Martin, and that’s you.”

“Oh. Yes. Yes it is. Ahem, statement of… Martin… uh, recorded 3rd of June, 2017. And it’s regarding?”

“… A message.”

“Regarding a message. Statement begins.”

_*A long pause and then a sniff.*_

“Yeah, I don’t think this is gonna work out.”

“Sorry?”

“Now don’t you be sorry, we just aren’t on the same wavelength. Your lines are off.”

“Um.”

“I don’t like it,” the American growls. “Taste is almost rotten. It tasted weird when we met your pal John too.”

“John?” Martin sputtered.

“Yep. Caught scent of him but when we tracked him down things got weird… er than usual. He stole our names and then he said he had a Martin back at his in-steh-tute and we should say hi. That’s the message, ‘Hi.’”

“You met John? Where? How long ago?”

“A few days? It was southwest where the roads are long and hot. Too many hunters out there.”

“Southwest America? How did you get to London?”

_*An intake of breath.*_

“Well that’s the tricky part. I sholuda brought Drummer. She’s got all the insight to these things. See, we flow with the whims of the Universe, but Drummer can make them turn. I think she was mighty interested to see where your John came from. I was just interested in a snack. Now I’m glad I sent my boys away. This place smells wrong. Yall are,” he sniffs the air, “full of food, but it’s like rotten.”

“Sorry, food?”

“Fear. Panic. Sometimes pain. That’s how we tracked down friend John. But you guys… stink. It’s no good.”

_*Silence except the whir of the tape recorder.*_

“So—”

_*Something slams the table, Martin yelps, and the American makes a sound that is part laugh part growl.*_

“I have a friend like you; flinches soon as you look at him. But he’s always throwing himself in to stupid and dangerous stuff, and I can tell you do the same.”

“I wouldn’t say stupid.”

“I would.”

_*Silence reigns again.*_

“Well, you got your message, so I really should get back to my universe. This one is gross.”

_*The person stands as Martin stammers.*_

“Wait! You really believe you’re from another world?”

“Yeahuh.” A laugh. “I could show you if you’re skeptical.”

_*Fingernails scrape along the wooden table.*_

“Uh, no thank you. I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I could use a snack for the road.”

“No really, I don’t think—”

_*Slight static covers a deep intake of breath as Martin squirms uncomfortably, unable to speak. A grunt and a spit.*_

“Yuck. Rotten.”

_*The door opens and Melanie’s voice can be heard in the background.*_

“What the hell?”

“He’s fine,” says the American casually.

“Get out, now!”

“Gladly, you wanna come too?”

“You know I will!”

“Then let’s go.”

“Melanie, wait!” Basira calls, but their footsteps keep retreating. “Martin? Are you all right?”

“Ooof.” Martin sounds groggy. "Yeah, yeah I think so. It’s not that bad, actually. I feel tired but also fine?”

“What happened, what did he do?”

“I think he… ate my fear? And he saw John in America, and he said I tasted awful, and—”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“Not really,” Martin continues dreamily, “and there was nothing really useful since he’s technically from another universe.”

“Martin, why don’t you have a lie down.”

“Yes… I am very tired. I hope John tells us the other side of the story when he gets back.”

“Yes... when.”

**Author's Note:**

> The formatting is odd, I know, but it felt right for this story. I haven't written for a while and it feels good to get back into the groove.


End file.
